Merlin slammed the door, emphatically. He understood the strength of their grief, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see Kay’s naked pantry dance. His magic melted away, leaving him Merlin-shaped.
He whispered a single word as if it were a curse. “Kay!”
Val ran in. “Kay what?”
“Kay and Gwen,” he mumbled.
“Are they in there?” Val asked, disgusted. “Oh, celestial gods, please tell me he wasn’t doing the sexy talk.”
Jordan lumbered in.
“I thought you were in the cockpit,” Val said. “Who’s flying the ship?”
“I discovered something when I turned on the com line,” she said. “I must tell my queen.”
“Not now, Jordan,” Merlin said, flicking her away with his fingertips. Her presence only reminded Merlin of how wrong he’d been about the Lancelot situation. Merlin thought the same impossible thing he’d thought so many times since Ari’s death: Kay is Lancelot.
Merlin had wasted his time worrying about Jordan’s ferocious-blond brand of loyalty. Kay had failed knight camp, but he was stubborn and true. And he had given up everything to be Ari’s brother. He was her most loyal knight.
And now he was bursting out of the pantry, dressed in red boxer briefs. “You have to stop stealing my face!”
“Stop stealing Ari’s wife!” Merlin shouted.
“Ari is dead!” Kay yelled, a vein appearing on his forehead like a bolt of angry lightning.
Gwen emerged from behind Kay, tugging her dress back together.
“No judgment, no judgment, no judgment,” Merlin muttered under his breath.
“Really?” Val asked. “I vote judgment.”
Jordan sighed. “My queen, I’ve found something.”
“No one is queen anymore,” Gwen said, her voice low and shadowed. “What is it, Jordan?”
The black knight paused. Her potent silence told Merlin that she was in possession of a factual grenade and was about to drop it. “The ship has four thousand, three hundred and seventy-two missed messages,” she said. “And they’re all from Ketch.”
The stone-paved main street was a battlefield.
Ari rode up to meet the line of Mercer associates astride a damn dragon. “That’s right, you corporate assholes!” she called out, sword high, sun glinting off the blade. “He might not breathe fire but he does eat dumbasses for breakfast!”
She sounded her war cry and spurred her great green steed into a scurrying charge. Ari meant to flip off his back, cutting through the Administrator’s front line of defense with one fell swoop from Excalibur. Instead, her taneen sank on its hindquarters to scratch its shoulder with a vigorous thumping from its back leg.
Ari launched off him sideways, taking out the front row all right, but not gracefully. The stuffed associates’ shirts exploded, spilling rice everywhere, and Kay dove at the sight, lapping up the uncooked grains.
“No, no! Kay, stop!” She grabbed him around the neck, nearly thicker around than both of her arms, and pulled the young taneen back. “Remember the last time you ate a bunch of uncooked rice? Your belly ached for a week. Sit, Kay! I said, sit.”
The dragon, who was only a few months old and yet already bigger than the horsebots on Lionel, sat back on his haunches, whipping his tail around and kicking sand and rice everywhere. Ari laughed, digging out a piece of lamb jerky from her pocket and tossing it into Kay’s mouth. Her favorite taneen hatchling was exactly like her brother. Obstinate, obnoxious, smelly, and always thinking with his stomach. That’s what had made him the easiest to train. And fall in love with. She gave him a thorough rub along the soft skin between the plates across his back. Kay made a moony, happy sound—which also sounded like her brother.
“Stay…” Ari said, backing up. Kay began to wiggle out of place, and she gave him a stern eye. He sat back down, but continued to create chaos with his tail. “Okay, one more. This is the big one, remember?” Ari eyed Kay, who was already more interested in whatever might be in her pocket than her command. “Play dead!” she called.
Kay grinned, triangular mouth hanging open, tongue hanging out to the side.
“Does Big Mama know you’re playing with her baby again?” Morgana said, appearing out of thin air like an annoying ghostly know-it-all.
“Big Mama is fine as long as I feed them both. Besides, Kay doesn’t like being secluded in the hot, boring desert. Do you, buddy?” Ari rubbed down his hard nose, getting licked on the cheek. “Now, play dead!”
Kay squatted low and playfully. Big Mama’s howl echoed down the street, and the sight of the enormous taneen turned Kay into less of a trained dragon and more of a toddler, wiggling with delight to perform for his mom. He rolled on his back, legs in the air, and lolled his tongue out. Big Mama came scuttling down the street, dwarfing everything in sight, including her baby. She sniffed at Kay’s position and then growled disapprovingly.
“He’s just playing dead, Big Mama.” Ari stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Kay jumped back onto his feet. She pulled out two pieces of lamb jerky, tossing one in Kay’s mouth and the other up to his mom. Big Mama swallowed it whole and turned around, pounding the rice-associates into the sand with her large, clawed feet as she went. Kay slobbered on Ari’s arm for a minute and then scuttled after his mom.
Ari climbed the street sign, unwinding the camera tied to the post. She reviewed the footage they’d made. “There’s some good stuff, I think. Not a complete loss considering it took two weeks to build those dummies.”
“I still can’t understand why you’re doing this,” Morgana said.
“It’s training.” Ari hopped down and swung Excalibur with a loose wrist. “Practice for the real thing.”
“Assuming you ever get off this rock.”
“Optimism, Morgana,” Ari said, even though she was starting to feel the opposite. Two dry seasons had come and gone on Ketch. The next rain season was due any day, and that meant at least a year had gone by on the Old Earth calendar. She moved to the line of dummies she’d made of her friends. Val wore a homemade corset. Merlin, Ari’s mother’s favorite green robe. Lamarack was one-handed and bragged the best mauve thawb she could find. Kay wasn’t there because she had the loutish taneen for when she missed her brother.
The Gwen dummy had been a bit of a disaster. Ari had gone through seriously dark moods while she worked on it, and eventually given up. It didn’t help that Ari could now recite the dozens of Arthur-Lancelot-Gweneviere heartbreaks from the previous cycles, complete with the video-quality memory playbacks Morgana was in the habit of gifting when she didn’t think Ari was taking the matter seriously enough.
Morgana’s training had been nothing if not thorough.
Which had inspired the Jordan dummy—Ari’s favorite opponent. It was covered in pots and pans turned into armor; even though Ari had found a suit of armor, she’d kept the ragtag version instead. It was less formidable, easier to bang against. Ari sent Excalibur singing through the air, danging across Jordan’s breastplate. It wasn’t enough, so she turned, using her full body to throw the sword into the dummy.
The handle wavered in the aftermath—sticking out of Jordan’s head.
“Oh, yes, that reeks of optimism,” Morgana said.
“You said I should vent.”
“I said you should give up on Gweneviere. It’s a poisoned love story. You said you could ‘vent’ your ‘feelings.’”
“I never should have taught you how to use air quotes,” Ari muttered. She went to pull the sword out of the dummy, but Morgana beat her to it. Her ghostly fingers closed around the handle without gaining purchase. “It’s not going to work. Excalibur won’t let you.”
“It let me once. On Urite.” Morgana heaved an annoyed sigh. “But then Merlin’s blood was on it. What I wouldn’t give for just a few vials full of that heavenly liquid.”
“Ugh, no more waxing poetic about Merlin’s magical blood!” Ari hauled the sword free and shoved it into the sheath at her back. “
And don’t think that I—”
A simple, glorious tone sounded. As loud as the city was large.
At first, Ari couldn’t move. “That’s the signal beacon. Error is calling me back!” She sprinted for Ras Almal alone, climbing the steps two at a time, used to this workout. Ten flights and her legs barely burned anymore. If this had been her normal training, she would have set a personal best by dozens of seconds.
On the tower balcony, Ari silenced the signal alarm and stared at the blinking com light. From the number, she could tell it was Error calling. Who was calling was still a mystery. What had happened to her friends while she was here? Were they all right? Were some of them dead? Why had it taken so long for them to call her back? She’d run through these thoughts so many times over the last few seasons that her brain short-circuited. This could even be the Administrator bragging about his latest victory over her friends.
Ari answered. “Ari here.”
At first no one spoke on the other line.
“This is Ara Azar on Ketch,” she tried. “Who is this?”
“Ari?” Merlin’s voice crackled with static and hope. “Is that truly you?”
“Merlin!” She pressed a knuckle against her tearing eye, holding back a windstorm of sudden emotions. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“We’re… adrift. Lionel was taken over. I couldn’t stop it, Ari. We all tried, but we’ve nowhere to go, and Mercer won’t permit us to land anywhere.”
So it was time. Ari had been placing the jigsaw pieces of a plan together since she’d fallen like an angel into the remains of her destroyed home. Arthur, in all his absent wisdom, had been pressing her toward this, as well. Preparing, training, readying for battle.
One step at a time. No impulsive decisions.
After all, this was the Administrator’s game of chess. And Ari was taking back the offense. That’s what her time on Ketch had taught her. You don’t ride a taneen in one day. You spend months getting them to simply eat out of your hand. And you couldn’t bring Mercer down in one accusation, but with a few well-placed moves, you could change the game.
“I have a plan, Merlin. Listen close.” Ari gave him instructions for what to do with the Lionelian refugees—and then where they would meet. She tried to remain as unemotional as possible and hung up. She managed to stop herself from asking about her friends. How Gwen was. Why her brother hadn’t come on the line. All those things had to be pushed aside for now.
“Check, Administrator,” Ari said, finally pressing Send on the file she’d been compiling for months. A tell-all about what had happened to Ketch, sending it out on all open channels, for the great, wide universe to see.
The second step of the plan was a whirlwind of action. The generation ship—the fucking castle—stunned the hell out of Ari, falling through Ketch’s atmosphere and into the sandy desert like a barely-reined-in meteor. She helped the several thousand Lionelians into the least known city on the planet, the one built into the sandstone mountains in the south, where the taneens didn’t tend to venture. She made sure the refugees were stocked with food, water, medicine.
And she left.
Piloting the only working emergency life pod from Lionel’s castle, she powered, full throttle, to the very solar system that first sent humans into the cosmos like a constellation of consequences. From Mars, she caught a glimpse of Heritage: skulking, watching, unnerved no doubt by the space waves alight with anti-Mercer chatter. The communications coming through her console were a gratifying tangle of discussion about Ari’s video.
She hadn’t held back. She’d shown the collections of human bones, piled high by the taneens who’d feasted when the planet went lifeless. And she’d shown the excruciating death of the hatchling. The one that drank from a Mercer barrel of “water” from the shipment that had poisoned everyone. Big Mama had lost her mind that day, and that was on the video, too. The enormous grieving mother howled into the desert wind as the seizing little one finally went limp. She’d knocked her own head into a stone wall and bitten Ari three times before they’d both collapsed in a pile of misery.
Of understanding.
That’s how Ari had learned how Mercer did it. They’d waited for the dry season—and then struck. A cowardly, spineless move. But they hadn’t just murdered Ketch; they’d swept their crime under that barrier. Ari was pleased to hear so much speculation across so many worlds about what else Mercer might have covered up.
Ari kept her eye trained on the swiftly approaching, gaudy moon, and requested a docking space. Then she began the—honestly exhausting—decision of picking out what to wear. Something to blend in but, obviously, also look nice. She took in her appearance in one of the silver walls in the pod. Her skin had darkened under the Ketchan skies. Her hair was nearly twice as long, the ends gracing her hips, and her muscles were banging from the constant training.
What would Gwen think of her now?
Ari’s heart did an embarrassing drop beat as she straightened her clothes. “Be cool. She’s been with someone else. No big deal. Maybe several people. Maybe even… probably… huge, muscular, perfect, ridiculous fucking Jordan.” Ari pulled her belt tight as she imagined the black knight with her impeccable chivalry and gleaming armor—and had to unhook the leather and start again. She narrowed her eyes on her reflection. “You’re in trouble, Ara.”
“Permission to dock in Dodge Colony LK-189,” a docking guard voice floated in from the console. “You aren’t a Mercer affiliate, are you?”
Ari squinted and hit the com. “Do I look like a Mercer affiliate? This ship is barely running.”
“Have to ask. We kicked the bastards out.”
What did that mean? Good news, maybe? Well, it was good for this secret meet-up, although Ari still wasn’t going to flash her face around. She used the controls to drop the pod through the pinhole in the thermal shades. Then she docked and brought the drape of her shirt over her head and tucked her long hair in.
Setting off across the colony, Ari noted that Dodge had a brand-new dome, even if the town didn’t seem to have changed an iota otherwise. There was still the loud market full of incessant peddling of used Mercer goods at slashed prices. Still the flicker of caustic neon signs. The air was too slim on oxygen, while the gravel was too ashy to be any kind of soil. All the same. Apart from one thing.
Instead of Mercer patrols there were Mercer protests.
A clutch of people on a variety of street corners had scrolling digital signs and harsh chants. One carried a replica of Excalibur that made Ari ache for her sword. For once she’d left it behind on the pod. Excalibur was too easy to spot, too impossible to conceal.
Plus, Ari knew how good she was at not using the sword.
“No impulsive moves,” she murmured, turning down the alley where she’d first met Morgana. The ancient enchantress hadn’t reappeared since she’d talked with Merlin. Pouting, no doubt. Ari didn’t know if Morgana had followed her to Dodge, although she would have put quite a few credits on that wager.
Ari ducked through the back door of Dark Matter. The place hadn’t changed, and it transported Ari to the beginning of her King Arthur journey, to begging the bartender for a whiff of oxygen. When he refused, she’d stabbed her funny new toy in the middle of the dance floor as a Thanks, asshole. And then shortly after, Merlin had gyrated over to her.
Ari swept her eyes through the crowded, dark place. The pulse of the music pulled on her growing nerves. If her friends were here, they were being discreet for once. Imagine that. Maybe Ari wasn’t the only one who’d had to grow up in the last year.
Ari leaned on the counter and pressed a coin down without making eye contact. She took a deep, steadying breath from the mask the bartender held out and it felt like her starving brain was getting more than it could handle.
When she turned back to the dance floor, Ari saw her.
Dressed down in a baby-blue flight suit that had once belonged to Kay’s mom, Gwen danced in a way that was anything but era-appropr
iate. Her head was thrown back, long neck exposed, while her curls were braided to the side and wound tightly into a knot. Ari had never seen that style on her before. She’d never seen Gwen in a flight suit.
And, shit, she’d never seen Gwen dancing.
Gwen gave her entire body to the swollen music. Her full hips were a fluid swing, her hands not afraid to slide over every curve on her frame. Stomach, breasts, lips… although Ari could still pinpoint the exact spot where Gwen gave herself away. Her eyes were closed, her expression deeply tense in a way that passed as exertion amidst the other dancers.
But Gwen wasn’t tired; she was terrified.
So she was dancing.
Oh, lady.
Ari used the heel of her hand to secure her heart and gave in to Gwen’s riptide. The flash burn of oxygen in Ari’s veins abetted her confidence as she crossed the dance floor and met the back of Gwen’s body with her front. Gwen froze for the tiniest moment as Ari’s touch slid down Gwen’s arms, sealing the tops of Gwen’s soft hands with Ari’s callused palms. Their fingers wove, matching rings clinking in a way that made Ari slip on a relieved sigh. Gwen was still wearing her wedding ring. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
They danced for the rest of the song, Ari’s hold on Gwen unyielding, Gwen’s body pressing into Ari’s with a kind of urgency that reminded Ari how long it had been since she’d been this close to another person… and lit up in this way. She was nearly dizzy, at the mercy of the rhythmic bass, and Gwen’s feverishly intense hold on her fingers.
And still, they hadn’t even faced each other.
As the song ended, and a new one began, the music dwindled to nothing in Ari’s mind. Gwen turned around in Ari’s arms. Her eyes were bright, her tears barely masked. Ari felt herself blinking back her own overwhelming feelings. For so long, this kind of moment had seemed impossibly far away. Unreachable. A star that Ari would only ever stare at… and wish upon.
“If you’re one of the Administrator’s monsters, he’s made a huge mistake,” Gwen said, her icy voice cutting across the music, surprising Ari. “And you better not be a ghost.”
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